Gareth A Davies has been a sports journalist for The Daily Telegraph since 1993. He is Boxing and MMA Correspondent. Has been intrigued by fight and combat sports from a young age. Personal sporting passions are rugby, cricket, and martial arts. Also covers the Paralympic Games. Hates getting his hair cut. Follow on Twitter @GarethADaviesDT

Where do you find the superlatives to do justice to the brilliance of Jon ‘Bones’ Jones ? Right down to the marrow, I just do not see where you can hold up a light to the young man in MMA, and not feel a sense of admiration at his athletic genius, and indeed, his comportment as a fighter.

I’ve long laughed at the vitriol on some social networking sites and on message boards for the kid from Rochester. Ignore the negatives as poppycock.
He has everything. And some.

I’ve interviewed him on stage, admonished him for littering my car, spent time laughing and joking with him, and a few hours trying to get inside the mind of a sportsman destined for greatness.

If this appears too strong a sporting love letter of admiration, then I make no apologies. To all MMA fans, to the wider sporting world, celebrate the skills of this man while he decides to challenge himself in the Octagon. I guarantee you one thing: when he has gone, he will be sorely missed. And yet, it is only just the beginning…

On Saturday night in Toronto, after the now familiar gulps for air on his way to the fighting arena, as he settles his nerves, Jones showed that he has the wherewithal to one day, possibly very soon and very likely within a year, to be considered the baddest man on the planet. Yet he does it all with a smile, and an easy charm. And I repeat. Treasure him.

He is the route to the promised land of mainstream sport for MMA. Tiger Woods, Lionel Messi, Floyd Mayweather, Manny Pacquiao, Rafael Nadal, Roger Federer, Anderson Silva, Valentino Rossi. Concoct a pantheon of modern day sporting greats, and in any fair list, he remains on the top 10 on the planet. Yet he still calls himself a rookie, and reckons he can’t run, can’t catch, and has poor athleticism. Then there is the fastest man on the planet, that giant sprinter from Jamaica. Jones is the Usain Bolt of the fight world. He has the athletic gifts, and knows how to use them, working himself to the bone on a diurnal basis in the quest for improvement.

The way Jones handled Lyoto Machida in his second defence of the UFC light-heavyweight title was staggering in its enactment, chilling in its denouement, and yet thrillingly, still demonstrated that he carries vulnerabilities leaving us wondering if he is going to caught, grounded and finished by the other elite fighters who do not just want the title, but want the title of the man who defeated Jon Jones.

George Foreman, Big George Foreman told me a story recently which may one day be the same for Jon Jones. Foreman, from the era when heavyweight boxers were thicket deep in challengers, and the champions were stamping themselves indelibly into history within a society changing for black and white alike, told me with years of hindsight that looking back, he didn’t really want to be heavyweight champion of the world. He only realized that when he became heavyweight champion of the world. That was not really the prize.

The ultimate prize was wanting to be the man who beat Muhammad Ali. Some may see this as being too early to say this of Jones, but he really does look that good. Maybe the analogy does hold in that at an early age, at the Olympics, Ali – then Cassius Clay – was also a light-heavyweight.

There are two more powerful, legitimate challengers to the crown Jones currently holds: Rashad Evans and Dan Henderson, both heavy-handed, both former champions. By the end of 2012, barring injuries, ‘Bones’ will have faced the pair of them. Whither the heavyweight division from there ?

We don’t know yet, but Jones’s greatest challenges, if he wants them, will be up there on the ceiling of the biggest, heaviest fights out there. My view is that he should take his time.

When Lyoto Machida crumpled to the floor having been choked out against the Octagon wall in round two on Saturday night, like a scene from a movie rather than any genuine fight, you just had to shake your head. We are witnessing greatness developing in front of our eyes.

* * * * *

My, oh Mir

On the subject of greatness, the two giant figures of Frank Mir and Antonio ‘Big Nog’ Nogueira rolling like crocs in the denouement of their heavyweight battle was breathtaking. Nogueira, looking rejuvenated and using clever head movement and footwork to rock Mir to his boots with some devastating strikes, had defeat snatched from him – and his arm ruined – by the Las Vegan’s fall back to the brilliance of his jiu-jitsu. It was breathtaking.

For the Brazilian fighting Nogueiras, at the very least, younger twin ‘Little Nog’ brutally stopped Tito Ortiz in their light-heavyweight bout. It may signal the last mutterings in the UFC for the big, blond showman that Ortiz has been. Arguably, he has been ekeing out his career of late, rejuvenated after his shock defeat of Ryan Bader. Seeing him pummelled to the body like the carcass of an ox by Nogueira elbows and punches was a brutal end.

Elsewhere on the main card, Brian Ebersole squeezed out a points victory over Claude Patrick and Mark Hominick suffered the kind of knockout that is foisted upon us only once in a lifetime. Korean Zombie mayhem. Seven seconds to forget for the doughty Canadian.

Rejoice Toronto. The penultimate UFC event of the year will last long in the memory. For many reasons. But most of all for Jon Jones. With a sprinkling of Frank Mir.